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Kim Taeyoon received his BFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in Film, Video, New Media. His first solo show opened at One and J. Gallery on October 17, 2014. He has been included in group shows at One And J. Gallery, Seoul (2014 and 2013), Salon de H, Seoul (2014), Space 15th, Seoul (2011) Seoul Art Cinema, Space Cell (2006), Gallery Busker, Chicago (2006), Rodan, Chicago (2006) and Enemy Gallery, Chicago (2006).

I first met Kim Taeyoon in 2007 when he was at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. In the following years his work was focused on commercial projects and innovative and new uses of video and media technology. We became reacquainted in 2009 through mutual friends and have since become good friends. Following his development as a media artist I realized that Kim is doing something beyond just making videos, that his work taps into the dominance of media and it’s role in our lives by transforming it into representations that show the ebb and flow of data used and forgotten. On the surface this density of information and data, however obscured, are playful, and engaging, even hypnotic images. Like our experience as users of the Internet and media Kim’s works draw upon what is not visible. They act as commentary on the disconnection between information programming and user experience, and the indirection of contemporary communication and information. Although digital there is a sense of analog urge for connection within his works especially ones like Chit Chat (2012 and 2013) where the work is based on social media.

The following interview questions, which where answered via email, are based on a conversation Kim Taeyoon and I had in June 2014.

Julia Marsh: As a student I understand you started working in narrative film and video. Your work now is almost entirely non-linear constructions in digital media. Can you describe the process or intentions by which you made this shift?

Kim Taeyoon: I wanted to simplify my working process. Rather than piling up my thoughts and present them altogether, I wanted to work spontaneously as they came. For me, (narrative) films were too complex in the process, at that time. But the influence of time is deeply rooted in me and I intend to use it in my work.

JM: You use fairly complicated algorithms that result in relatively simple shapes and hypnotic patterning. I see a relationship between the labor used, and trance music culture. Is there some spiritual connections between the work and the results? Or is it in the work alone?

KTY: I wanted show movement, in which the boundary of the start and the end are soft, as something constantly goes round and round. I have been looking for something like a movement, which we can just see purely without the expectation on the ending with the estimation of what will show up next, so that this led me to use algorithm. As well as I began wanting to simplify the shape/figure to emphasize the movement. Actually, the algorithm is not that complicated. Many parts of my work are influenced by the electronic music and sampling culture. Music culture takes a big part of me.

JM: Each of the pieces from 2013 seems to employ color and pattern akin to Minimalism or Color Field Painting. Would it be accurate to say that despite your practice being digitally generated that you think like a painter?

KTY: For some of my works, I plan a sort of system, in which the software actually draws the picture. Most of them have a structure that randomly generates a simple movement. I wanted to show elements like a certain motion, rhythm, and cut and dissolve in film, as a temporal image without narrative. I do not think myself as a painter, but I am under the influence, hugely, by painters.

JM: Your work Chit Chat (2012/2013) taps into social media and our usage of the same, while other works tap into the patterns of data produced on the Internet. What was the inspiration for Chit Chat and do you think that since making that piece social media has changed?

KTY: The reason I chose to use social media in my work is not to present the recorded objects, but to show the things that are presently captured, the data, which is generated in real time. The data can be many repetitive movements with the blurred edge of beginning and ending, as well as temporal images. The two words that are used in Chit Chat, in 2012, love and hate, were used so frequently in 2014 that the computer could not display the effect, on screen, in real time. The users and traffic increased that much. I am also now accessing more often, than at that time.

JM: One aspect of your work is that you interface with what is going on around you very easily; making use of the Internet and sources like Twitter for generating your images. What are you responding to in your environment?

KTY: I spend a major amount of time each day looking at the laptop screen. I do my work with the computer, receive information through the Internet and communicate with people through social media. And then a day just passes by. Naturally, the line between reality and virtual reality is ambiguous. I feel virtual reality has become tangible now, and the reality is becoming more and more something elusive. I am thinking about the meaning of relative time, which is under the influence of the environment like this. I wonder about those effects, which are created by fast Internet speeds and the information that is always accessible, the illusions that show on the electronic signboards on the street, the rhythm of the neon light and the faster transportation. I contemplate on how we can adapt ourselves to the real space that is increasingly narrowed, and the territory of virtual reality that is more and more growing.

JM: You described your work as being the wrinkle, or fold in the surface of digital media, as something that disrupt the surface. Can you elaborate on this?

KTY: The texture of the screen is slick. In the present day, where the technology is more developed, the pixels in the screen are denser and the image becomes smoother. It may seem that the speed of technological progress is faster and everything becomes dense, but like most of the computers have some bugs and report errors, there are creases hiding in the microscopic level of the external slickness. Digital media has an exceeding advantage on finding and showing those things.

Jang Min Seung earned his BFA and MFA from Chung-ang University, in Seoul, South Korea. He has had solo exhibitions at Space Willing and Dealing, Seoul (2014), One and J. Gallery, Seoul (2012 and (2010), Art+Lounge Dibang, Seoul (2010), and Seomi & Tuus, Seoul(2008 and 2006). He has been included in group exhibitions at Seoul Museum of History, (2014), Kumho Museum, Seoul (2013), Gillman Barracks, Singapore, (2012), Culture Station 284 Seoul, (2012), Salon de H, Seoul, (2011), KIMUSA, Seoul (2009), Seoul Design Week, Fuorisalone, Milano, Italy (2007), Cais Gallery, Seoul (2006). In 2010 Jang was awarded a grant for Visual Arts by the Seoul Art and Culture Foundation, the SeMA Young Artist support program by the Seoul Museum of Art and a grant for Mullae Arts Plus by the Seoul Art and Culture Foundation. He was named the 2006 Korea Design Award: Young Product Designer of the Year.

Jang’s work is sometimes collaborative and other times not, however his work is generally sensitive and carefully constructed from observation of his subjects. Jang is one of a younger generation of artists that has experience that cuts across disciplines and does not adhere to the gallery as a main form of exhibition. I first became acquainted with Jang’s work when he showed large-scale photographs of windows in abandoned apartments titled In Between Times. These photographs of windows looking out onto nature are much like paintings of nature from an earlier age. Initially installed in an abandoned house, the buildings structure underscored the in between quality of their context. Jang’s background in design and music inform his work in photography, sculpture, and sound. His is a hybrid, one that developed as a natural outcropping of his interests. Jang is nothing if not thorough in his approach and attitude towards making. It is this drive that makes his works definitive.

The following interview questions, which where answered via email, are based on a conversation Jang Min Seung and I had in June 2014.

Julia Marsh: I understand you did not start out as an artist. How or why did you make this transition?

Jang Min Seung: Since I was a teenager, I was deeply into rock music, and I when I formed my first rock band, I met my collaborator, Jung Jae Il, who was the band’s guitarist. Our music back then was just copying Western heavy metal and rock numbers. Sometime after, Jung was noticed for his brilliant music and quit school to take the path of a professional musician, while I became an art student at a university. But after I got in, the school did not feel particularly fresh or new to me. It was 1997, and Hongdae was, more than today, filled with musicians and artists of various fields, as well as their exchanges. At that time, I was a bassist in an independent rock band and played for many festivals and events over the whole country, and time to time, participated on some soundtracks with Jung. Also after my first trip to London in 1998, I became obsessed with electronic music, and because of this, I even ran a club for a short time. With these experiences, I passed my 20s embodying the subcultures of the time. I started my military service in 1999, and after I was discharged, when I was 23, I founded a soundtrack production company with my friends, who are great musicians. The Korean film scene was in its golden era at that time, so that I could participate in the field as a producer and coordinator for about 20commercial films, in a short period of time. In response to the fatigue that came from listening to music as a job and commercial activities, I started to make furniture as a hobby, which was similar to my major. When I was in the college, I was into minimalism and so when I formally launched the furniture line I do so in this style. Looking back, there were almost no competitors, who were both making and designing furniture, so it was a very smooth debut for me as a designer. At that time, I thought I was meant to be a furniture maker. Naturally, I stopped working on the music related jobs. My tables were very popular so that I could freely observe my clients’ living spaces, so when I was about 30 I began to compare the different contexts of the things in spaces and the cultural taste of the owners. Sometimes I had severe prejudice on these things, which made me feel disgusted by my self. So I began wondering, if someone who doesn’t have a career background like mine, could they look at things without comparison or prejudice? So I stopped making furniture and started to take photographs ofthe offices of different embassies in Korea, and taking large scale pictures of various spaces for three years, which resulted in A Multi-Culture (2010) at One and J. Gallery, and In between Times (2010) at Art+Lounge Dibang. Based on the various cultural experiences in my 20s, this was the turning point at which I presented my formative language.

JM: Your work tends to have very concrete parameters with the exception of Willing + Dealing? Why is that?

JMS: I think your point is very accurate. I tend to consider formal beauty andits pleasure as very important, sometimes too much. Although the narrative is important, I believethat the message of one image, musical piece, or their formal beauty and texture (or finish for design) sometimes exceeds the narrative. Maybe this thought came from my direct experiences in the different focuses of my youth and the techniques and collaborative styles that I acquired from these interactions. (Later I had thought that Sanglim would never be possible without these experiences.) Critics say of my works, that they find a common formal beauty whether the work is a piece of furniture, a photograph, or in a new media form. My working process often starts with excessiveness and goes through steps that leave the minimum, and I hope the audience can find more stories because of this process. In Japanese literature, there is the poetic genre Haiku, which is a very simple verse with a fixed form, and because of its brevity and implication, the readers can have different personal interpretations. So every time I released my work, I intended to have an opinion, but not to state it. Sometimes this feels like dogma, which use to I lock myself in my own formal structure. But in the case of the exhibition in Space Willing + Dealing, I intended to be different from my earlier work and be very flexible, which was to not make any additional works for the exhibition and just comfortably lay out and mix the leftover pieces that were not released, (including photographs, furniture, and sculptures), and roughly show my hybrid identity, or rather my work. To realize this, I chose a coarse and vertically and horizontally distorted space for the exhibition. Especially, the for exhibitionHidden Track, I released my work TABLE 2, which I’ made for 10 years, and also exhibited research materials, like A Multi-Culture and B-cuts from In between Times. I could feel that the way I look at things had widely changed from before. A big awakening about my series of works came to me through this exhibition, so that I felt it was a kind of retrospective of mypast 10 years.

JM: Besides your photographic works, with your collaborator Jang Jae Il, you have done many sound works. This type of media work is increasingly finding its support and a place in exhibition. What are some of the challenges you have faced in realizing a project like Sanglim?

JMS: The biggest and the toughest problem that I confronted, while I was processing Sanglim, was the perception of how to look at the form of this work. Sanglim was a pilot project with the cooperation of central and regional organization and professionals to overcome both the standard form of public art and the practices that solidify the form. And the objective space, Sanglim Park in Hamyang, Kyungsangnam-do, is a park and also a forest, which its name implies, and at the same time, it is a natural monument and a neighborhood park. The scenery was already cluttered with many objects, so we suggested not placing anything, and instead make an invisible work, and one without the most important attribute for proposing public art: durability (or permanency), so that it will perish as the time passes. At the beginning, the process of convincing for this was the most difficult thing.

JM: The three sound pieces that you worked on Sanglim, Mullae and at Jeju Island, could also be called site-specific. Do you think there is a need to distinguished between genres or is it all the same?

JMS: From time to time, I have been asked to summarize the work of Jang Min Seung + Jung Jae Il. In fact, it is hard for us to explain our works and we do not explain it as a certain thing or a genre, but we do think that we have been showing results that no one else ever did. The works in Sanglim, Munlae-dong, and Jeju are different in their site-specificity and background, so that the experiencing audiences are also different; in turn I recently felt there is a disparity between works that are freely made and those that are commissioned for certain purposes. This question is suggestive of the change in our future works, which will be different from previous works. So I would rather not classify the works of Jang Min Seung + Jung Jae Il, and just anticipate our works. In the distant future, I hope our work becomes a genre, not a style. I even wish it will not be recognized as art.

JM: Your works each have an underlying social concern, like housing or construction. Would you say this is true for your latest work Willing + Dealing?

JMS:I think the answer will overlap a lot with my previous answers. All individuals, including artists, are making connections to the environment (city, society) they are living, but different from the others. I think artists actively find it and make a statement about it. I was once confused with my very Westernized design language, which I found in my 20s as a designer. To resolve this, I took many pictures of new town areas and other scenes, like an anthropologist does fieldwork. These were not for public eyes at the beginning, yet some of them became projects, while others did not. Maybethe reason why the images I showed at Space Willing + Dealing could be seen that way, is that they were less refined than the other works that has become projects and exhibited. Correspondingly, Hidden Track was an improvisatory mixture of leftover wooden scraps from making commercial furniture, while B-cuts were photographs and sculptures, and the furniture fragments and images that I took near the exhibition site.Each installation I put there was one element, and I hoped the exhibition site to become one big work.

JM: You seem to move between commercial work and art making with relative ease. What do you think is the relationship between art and commerce in Korea?

JMS:Because I don’t have much experience making money as an artist, I cannot really speak about the relation between art and commerce in Korea. But what I feel is that the size of the art market in Korea is too small. This is not just about the size of the artwork deals, but the price for the artist is also too small, no matter in the art field or commercial field. This is why artists naturally tend to have another job. Simply, it is hard to make a living from making art. When I see the many musicians around me, they commonly do different activities, like sessions for popular music, and their own music. Through this, I see they keep their work habits and persist in their creative works, yet I saw many artists who think this is shameful, and that they are tainted by such work.

For my case, it may look easy to come and go, but actually it is a very difficult matter. There was a time that the music, which I was interested in, became my means of living, and after that my interest moved to design. And then design became the means of living, then I had my late start on art based on the view I learned from design. Now being an artist became my job and I spend most of my time doing it more than before, but the good thing is that this work cannot be my means of living at all. (Especially because I am more and more attracted to ephemeral works, which is non-materialistic and communicating through some particular experiences.) So I think this is the work, which I can keep doing. If this becomes a major moneymaker, I will definitely feel bored. Commercial films, popular music, and the design field, which are in a love-hate relationship with me, have bigger capital, newer technology and more trained and reasonable people than in the art field. I am not just making money from them, but also discovering the materials and learning many things that nobody can teach me.

Keem Young Eun is a sound artist, who has been in the residency program of Rijksakademie van Beeldende Kunsten, Amsterdam, since 2014. In 2013 she completed the Sonology Course at The Royal Conservatory of The Hague. She earned an MFA at the Korea National University of Arts, Seoul, and a BFA in the Department of Sculpture, at Hongik University, Seoul. She has had solo exhibitions at Project Space Sarubia, Seoul, (2011), Alternative Space Loop, Seoul (2009) and Insa Art Space, Seoul (2006). Her works were included in Translate into Mother Tongue, Doosan Gallery, Seoul and New York, (2013), Open Index, Art Sonje Center Lounge Project, Art Sonje Center, Seoul (2012), Image and Text – Ut Pictura Poesis, ONE AND J. Gallery, Seoul (2012), Media Landscape: Zone East, Liverpool Biennale, Contemporary Urban Center, Liverpool, UK (2010), Sound Art 101, Ssamzie Space, Seoul (2007), Sitting Here and There without Knowing What is Happening, 335 Orch Performance Series, Alternative Space Loop, Seoul (2007), Somewhere in Time, Art Sonjae Center, Seoul (2006), Familiar, but Unfamiliar Landscape, Arko Museum, Seoul (2006), SEMA 2005, Seoul Museum of Art, Seoul (2005). Keem’s work Bespoke Wallpaper Music will be performed at 7pm between September, 18th and the 25th at the Solomon Building, in Hwanghak-dong.

I first became acquainted with the work of Keem Young Eun in 2011 when she was an artist in residence at Art Space Mullae. I found her piece Room #402 a haunting and singular experience.

The following interview questions, which where answered via email, are based on a conversation Keem Young Eun and I had in May 2014.

Julia Marsh: In the fall you will return to Seoul to do a sound installation in a building in Hwanghak-dong, near Dongdaemun. Will this work be similar to Room 402, the sound installation you produced in your studio at Mullae Art Center?

Kim Young Eun: I can say the two are similar but different. If Room 402 used the content of dramatically woven noise to waken the invisible environment, which rests beyond the space of the audience, this work is more focused on the construction of sound in accordance with the physical element of the space. However, this work can be considered as the extension of the previous work, at the point that the two are trying to acoustically reveal invisible space.

JM: As a sound artist, you work with ephemeral elements within the material constraints of space. Much installation art possesses a similar dichotomy. Do you think there are any real differences between sound and installation art?

KYE: Actually it has been only a short time since I defined myself as a sound artist. Maybe this is so because the word feels a bit technical to me, perhaps with no reason. But when I see myself, I realize that the contents of my work mostly start from an interest in different sounds and related things, as well as I feel most comfortable and pleased, when sound is at the center of my final results. So in this way I accepted the name.

In dealing with sound, I am always fascinated that sound art can stand alone without having an actual exhibition space.

Originally, the characteristic of sound media contained spatial ideas. So, there have been many attempts to spatialize sound, while on the contrary to contain the space in the sound. The former needs a real place to present the work, but the latter can leave the three dimensional space. In crude terms, installation art has to be based on the actual space in order to make a certain scene into an artwork, or a certain artwork into a scene, but the work of sound art can be exhibited inside a pair of headphones. Sometimes a sound can be rather strongly imprinted on a person through non-spatial and time-based tools like a sound file, as well as direct and physical tools like headphones. However, there are few sound artworks that can be actually possessed, without a relationship to feelings, memories, or conceptual understandings, which is another difference from installation art.

JM: Sounds art in many cases is resistant to dominant forms of cultural consumption, whether as a picture or even a recording. By making work that is outside or resistant to co-optation are you attempting to disrupt the typical exhibition experience?

KYE: Such consequence comes from the media’s, or the sound’s own character, rather than my intention. It is hard to answer yes to your question because when I work on a piece, I am only thinking about the formality of the work’s content, and do not recollect words like resistance or disruption. If my work carries some aspect of resistance, it is then an uncounted for revolt emanating from my unconscious mind.

JM: In your estimation what is the ideal setting for sound art and its observation? Also, what challenges does your work pose for exhibiting and documentation?

KYE: Though I cannot generalize the conditions established for sound art, in the case of a group exhibition in an exhibition site, it is necessary to retain enough space and wall to make each artwork clearly and individually audible. It may sound simple, but is still important to screen out unnecessary sound, because the sound will still be there, whether the viewer/listener turns his or her back or even moves to the next exhibit.And yet many artists have to admit that this is harder to actualize then they thought.

On some occasions, in which a sound work is installed in a contemporary art exhibition, I often see the materiality of the work is not being understood. And in other cases, in which the exhibition is solely dedicated to sound works, I frequently experience adirection which actually mixes the sounds altogether, perhaps because they know the difficulty in realizing individual materiality in one space, which in turn can cause the curator’s voice to be diminished. Of course, there are some good examples of multiple sound works installed together.

I think the ideal environment is only possible when the spatial conditions that I mentioned earlier are available, and the perspective of the person, who makes the exhibition is attentive to these needs.

On the matter documentation,there are lots of limitations, actually. Unlike some people, I neither disregard the need for documentation, nor pursue the perfect technique for recording the sound as close to real-time. Depending on the case, I sometimes use special recording devices, but basically I only document brief examples, and only to the degree that delivers the concept and content of the work and gives a taste of the scene. This is an issue I need to continue contemplating and supplementing.

JM: Sound art often appears to be on the fringe of the Korean art scene. From your own perspective how does it fit into the contemporary Korean art scene, in contrast to how it may be received in other parts of the world?

KYE: It has been almost ten years since the first exhibition in Korea introduced sound art. But Korean and translated foreign books and related institutions, which deal with sound art hardly exist, so that this earlier introduction did proceed to become a body. Yet, there have been a few self-grown sound artists, composers, and curators with interest, so exhibitions and performances are possible to and happen, even though they are rare. I think the fact that Korean sound art has come into being by itself to this point without any basis, is very important.

The place of sound art in the international art world also seems unclear. The history of sound art is short, shown by the small number of first generation artists who are still active. More attempts and time are needed in this field. However, it is true that English and German speaking countries have more publications and institutions, as well as the specialized exhibition site, curators and critics dedicated to sound, so the discussion on sound art there is far more common. Also, there are some references that most in the art world know, so that the conversation can be started any time.

I think the difference is only a matter of time.

JM: Sound art is not a mainstream form of culture and requires special support, both materially and institutionally. What do you think are the requirements for sound art to be better received in Korea, and elsewhere?

KYE: For the case of Korea, I think there should be a university department, which academically approaches sound art. There should be classes that deal with the history of auditory culture, and introduce the important artworks of sound art. Even though higher education may not be the best method, I think it is a necessary step to correct the current situation.

Also, the term “sound”and “sound art” should be used as a category in documents from supporting art institutions. If the institution provides production funding, but does not acknowledge it as an independent genre, the friction between the institution and the artist will inevitably grow in the process of the making.

I cannot comment on cases of outside of Korea, since I have not experienced these relative systems.

Chung So Young’s work can be best described as non-figurative sculpture. But in fact her work has a tendency towards site-specificity. Her concern with the presence space and the absence of form is clearly a question of site. Where does the work begin and end. So here site is not place, but space. As well, Chung’s earlier work references geology and sedimentation. Using the city of Seoul as a source of information and inspiration Chung’s work shows the life of the city as on in which change is unending. When we talked I was struck by how philosophical Chung was about her ever so material work.

The following interview questions, which where answered via email, are based on a conversation Chung So Young and I had in May 2014.

Julia Marsh: Your work possesses qualities and principles found in Formalist and Minimalist sculpture, while also being situated as site-specific. What are the particular concepts related to space that you draw upon as you plan your works? And conversely, how do spaces impact the outcome of your works?

Chung So Young: The particular concept I draw upon in relation to space is to find and analyze theorder of the materials and structure present in spaces we inhabit. This organization of materials can only be found in emerging forms. As well, because gravity is an inevitability of human existence in the physical world, it appears most especially in my works. It is same for visual artists, who create by using raw materials. Because theses arrangements are adapted and shaped into other forms, it might be possible to associate my work with Formalism and Minimalism. But at their basis my works are not conceptual sculptures based on the historical contexts of art making, but rather the form of my works are based on contemporary observations of space, place, and environment. And it is in the space, where my work is placed that it is completed.

JM: In the past sculpture has fallen under categories like those mentioned above. In this supposedly post-ideological era do you think of your work as adhering to certain principles of design or sensation that fall outside of the accepted categories of sculptural movements? You have described your works as being figurative, as opposed to abstract. Can you explain how this embodiment arises in your work?

CSY: I think the existence of the work is determined by the generated sense during the experience of it in the material world. This can be a sort of authorial materialism. My creation is not in accordance with the imagination and transcendental spirit, but in terms of sense and phenomenon, which occur by experience and observation. So like I said before, my work is not abstract. I cannot say it is figurative either, but I can say it is constructive.

JM: Recently you were commissioned to create works for the ROUND PROJECT in Hamyang-gun, Gyeongnam. These works had to meet strict conditions required by the organization sponsoring the project. How did this experience shape, not just the outcome of the commissioned works, but your perspective on site-specific works in the age of festivalism and community works?

CSY: For this project, I presented work that is conceptually simplified and functionalfor public space, in contrast to the sculptures and installations I present in museums and galleries. As well, permanent installations in a certain places do not always carry the characteristics of site-specific artworks. If we consider the meaning of a permanent installation as an augmented asset to the region, then it may not focus on investigating and reflecting thepeculiarity of the place. Though making work that mixes into the installation space is still important to me, I have been attempting to make work that can independently exist from the character of time and place. Among the many directions of public art projects in Korea, the project I participated was placing meaning on renewing the local context and its possibility, not on creation based on local study. We can call it gentrification by art.

JM: In the last 100 years our concepts of natural and artificial have undergone serious revision. To the point that what is often considered artificial can actually be described as organically produced and that what is manmade is just another layer of the natural order. Such division seem to be central to your work, meaning that your works represent attempts to invert accepted notions, like abstract and figurative, as well as what is natural and artificial. As an artist what is at stake for you in such attempts?

CSY: It is hard to find the primary factor for determining success and failure of these attempts. In my case, I think what is at stake is to understand fully the order of such dichotomous conditions, and how to respond to the order as an artist.Though it is a difficult path, I think we have to get away from excessively substituting the artist’s emotions and consciousness, and accurately recognizetoday’s contradictory situation in cultivating a friendliness to nature, as well as removing the space for such interpretations. Also, despite the tensions between the natural and artificial, I think these two axes should be able to coexist. In this way, it should be an open dialog, one in which questions can be openly and constantly.

JM: How do you position yourself within the trajectory of contemporary Korean art? Do you think the history of sculpture in Korea follows a path similar to that Rosalind Krauss defined for American sculpture: one of rupture and dislocation to a new place from its origins as, say memorial, or marker? Also on the question of influence where do you see sculpture heading over all?

CSY: I haven’t studied deeply the history of Korean sculpture. But if modern sculpture, which substituted materiality for concepts, was followed by sculpture revealing the artist’s concepts through figurative recreation, I would like to say that my work emulates this phenomenon, which is created by combining the material order and the artist’s free will. If American sculpture can be described as following a “rupture and dislocation to a new place,”Korean sculpture, as well has definitely experimented with new possibilities in sculpture through dissolution. However, as the result of this dissolution, I think the concepts found in sculpture have been expanded, diversified, and have taken on the multiplicity of placements. From my perspective, the sculpture that will continue to be relevant is heading to a place where its material being is more fortified in the non-material and spiritual world of humans.

Application guidelines sitecited seeks an Assistant Editor. The Assistant Editor will be responsible for selecting and assigning four exhibition reviews and editing submitted copy four times a year. Ideal candidate is bilingual (Korean/English) and holds a Master's degree in the arts or culture. To apply please submit your resume and two writing samples (one in Korean and another in English for those bilingual candidates) and a brief cover letter.

The work of Korean photographer JoSeub has gained a reputation for humorous commentary and serious play. His is never an easy look. You are ask to address the work inspect and discern. There are visual puzzles to be unlock and deciphered. And if you are willing, you might just find there within the frame something of delight and horror, but always an experience. His works, in the photographic canon represent the staged, documentarian, the tableau. Joseub never takes a random shot. His are thorough and exacting, however insanely arranged. His last group of works Moon Melody depicted a man in a crane costume getting up to all kinds of nonsense, from giving piggy back rides to drunk scholars to having sex with a random man in a dilapidated house. Unquestionably, Moon Melody 2: Eclipse provides just as much play and seriousness. Joseub’s large format prints, some arranged in the pattern of a traditional screens, or as diptychs show old men and women playing on beaches, camping, and hiking in the woods. However these old people are costumed players. Younger men dressed up not only as old men, but as North Korean military. These images beg many questions but the first is: what is going on here?! The answer to the question revealed itself slowly in the exhibit. An obvious fiction, perhaps more accurately surrealist dream is played out across these photographs. These figures that time forgot emerge from a land that time also forgot. And while they appear ready for a fight, Joseub’s “old men” dressed in tattered infantry uniforms are seemingly aware that the fighting ended over 60 years ago. The forgotten place is the demilitarized zone (DMZ), a gash of wild growth running across the Korean peninsula, designed to keep the peace. Reading these images is tricky because Joseub only give you clues, with nothing direct to hang onto. One is left wondering did I really see that old pregnant lady about to give birth on a mountain cliff? Or were those crazy old men really preparing to take the beach? Joseub forces you to read and see that there in his pictures is a kind of truth. The war goes on how ever ridiculous it may seem, waged by old men who remain invested in its lasting effects.